


The Lost Art of Romance #2

by Privilegedesire (Llama)



Series: The Lost Art of Romance [2]
Category: CW Network RPF, Gossip Girl RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-11
Updated: 2008-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:28:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama/pseuds/Privilegedesire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of fics in which Ed considers the benefits of romance over casual sex, and Chace considers the benefits of boys over girls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost Art of Romance #2

**Author's Note:**

> Please note this is a series of short fics, not one fic divided into chapters, and this fic takes place almost three months after the events in #1.

  
Everyone said things would be different once the show started airing, and if Ed had thought they were exaggerating, well, he knew better now. In just a couple of months they had gone from 'Who?' to fighting off the press on a daily basis, or near enough.

"Fuck!" Chace crashed down on Ed's only empty chair and pushed his hair out of his eyes. It made Ed wince, the way he let it flop everywhere. "I went out back for a smoke and someone spotted me."

"So?" Unless he was smoking a joint, Ed couldn't see what the problem was. And even then… who was going to care, really?

"I think one guy took a picture. What if my parents see it?" Chace chewed nervously at his bottom lip, which was kind of cute but a really bad idea.

Ed poked him hard in the face until he stopped. He schooled his expression into what he hoped was a parody of sympathy and took Chace's hand between his own, to Chace's apparent confusion. The look on his face was adorable; Ed just couldn't resist turning it up a notch.

"Poor baby," he cooed sweetly. "Do you want big bad Ed to go and punch the nasty man for you?"

Chace slapped his hands away, but he was smiling now. Ed sometimes wondered if making Chace smile was his own special superpower. Or he would, if that wouldn't make him both a huge nerd and ridiculously fond of the idiot boy.

"Yes," Chace said decisively, so Ed pushed him off the chair.

"You shouldn't be smoking," Ed said later, when they were waiting to do their last few close-ups.

Chace was staring intently at his shoes when Ed looked, but he didn't say anything.

"Not when you're sober, anyway," he added after a moment. Drinking had been Ed's excuse for everything since he took his first sip of Pernod and threw up all over Gillian Arnold's shoes at the age of fourteen. He knew better than to hold anyone accountable for deeds performed while drunk.

Chace shrugged, and looked up from under his hair. "I needed to think about some stuff."

"You know better than to angst alone, baby." Ed adjusted his cuffs and wondered how long they were going to be. He needed a beer, and to change into his real clothes, but most of all he needed to put Chuck away for a few hours and feel like himself again. It was hard to turn the accent off when he was dressed like this. "Tell Uncle Ed all about it."

"It's… it's not gossip material, man." Chace's voice was low, and a hell of a lot more serious than he usually sounded. "Well it would be, but—"

"You need it not to be?" Ed grimaced. Chace had nothing to worry about there. He certainly had plenty on Ed if he wanted to be sure of his silence, if only from that night in the club with… yeah, Andy. That was it. He was pretty sure Jimmy had passed on a few highlights of the past couple of years before the guys had left New York too, though Chace had never said anything.

He more than owed Chace for none of that getting around.

"Yeah. Something like that."

Ed flexed his fingers and resettled Chuck's scarf. There was nothing wrong with it, but he felt a ridiculous urge to fidget. Chace might not be quite what he'd expected from their early acquaintance, but he was still sure nothing pretty boy could say would shock him. And if he'd noticed Ed staring at him occasionally, he'd probably talk to someone else about it, right? There was nothing confrontational about Chace, he was a sweetheart through and through.

"You know I can keep secrets."

Chace nodded. He opened his mouth a couple of times, but he didn't seem to be able to get the words out.

Ed wiped his hand on the inside of his jacket pocket, suddenly too warm and sweaty. He was sure Chuck would have a handkerchief; he needed to ask wardrobe about that.

"How do you know—" Chace twisted his fingers together like a nervous teenager. Ed couldn't take his eyes off them. "How do you know if a- a guy's interested in you?"

Ed sighed. If Chace had noticed him staring, and all this beating about the bush was his confrontation phobia, then Ed was fucked. If it was someone else, then Chace hadn't noticed and was maybe, possibly (though he acknowledged he may be getting ahead of himself on this one) considering sleeping with a guy who _wasn't Ed_.

Either way, this one was going to require beer. After he'd finished his final shots, and it looked like they were ready for him. Time to put his best Chuck face on. That'd probably work best on Chace in any case.

"My place, eight o'clock," he said, as firmly as he could, and waited for Chace to nod.

Ed smiled, and after a moment so did Chace.

"Thanks," he said, and he seemed sincerely grateful.

"Yeah, whatever." Ed headed for the crowd waiting for him to look intense to order for the camera. "Just bring some beer!"

"Wow, your place is…" Chace seemed to be struggling for the right words.

"Crap?" Ed shut the door behind him, noting that Chace had taken him at his word on the beer. It was his favorite too – Chace was, as he should have expected, the perfect guest.

"I was going to say small." Chace grinned. He looked a little frayed around the edges, and his hands were restless. "But crap works too."

"Yeah, well." Ed wrinkled his nose up. "It's okay for me, I'm only going to be here while we're filming. I didn't expect to be on the show this long." He handed Chace a beer and settled down on the couch.

"You didn't?"

Ed shook his head. They'd explained to him that Chuck was a relatively minor part; a recurring villain, and they couldn't guarantee anything. That had been fine by him, but they'd only been a couple of weeks into filming before they'd bumped it up quite a lot. It was a hell of a compliment, but the crappy apartment was going to have to go if he was staying. He'd sort it out after Christmas, it was too close to worry about it now. Only two more days of filming and he was free for a few weeks.

This wasn't what they were here for tonight, though. He fixed Chace with his sternest frown. "Are you avoiding the subject, young man?"

Chace took a long swig of his beer. "Yes, I think I am."

"Fair enough." Ed flicked the TV on, though he turned the sound down low.

"It's just—" Chace shifted on the couch, rearranging his legs until he was sitting sideways on to Ed. "I don't know what to do."

Ed turned to look, and Chace didn't seem to have any trouble meeting his eye. Okay then, it probably wasn't about him. He waited.

"I've this friend, and we've been hanging out a lot lately." Chace smiled. "He's cool, we get along great."

"But?"

Chace sighed. "He's asked me to go to Miami with him at New Year, and I—" He rubbed the beer bottle against his cheek thoughtfully. "I can't get over the idea that he, well. He has something more in mind."

Ed drummed his fingers on his thigh and considered Chace carefully. Gorgeous face, adorable little flush on his cheeks, long eyelashes, those eyes. That chest, what little was on display under the open-necked shirt. Those _legs_ , man.

Unless this friend was blind, he probably had something in mind for all of them.

"But that's not what's worrying you."

Chace looked puzzled. "It's not?"

"Nope." Okay, so it was always possible that a kid from Texas was genuinely a completely different species of humanity than one from Stevenage, but Ed didn't think so, not really. And if going camping in Cornwall was the home-grown equivalent of luxurious vacations in Miami, which—well, never mind. The principle, or so he hoped, was the same.

"What you're worried about is that you might go for it."

It wasn't hard to see he'd hit the nail on the head. Jesus, hadn't Chace been all over the gossip columns with that blonde girl for months now? What the fuck was going on with him?

Chace didn't say anything, but he let his head fall against the back of the couch and closed his eyes, and Ed thought that was answer enough for now.

Chace was either insanely busy or simply avoiding Ed after that, because he didn't see much of him until they were almost done for the week. For the _year_ , and hoo-bloody-ray for that.

"Hey." Chace shuffled awkwardly next to Ed's spare chair, which wasn't so spare at the moment. He grinned when Ed threw the clothes and junk onto the floor, though, and Ed couldn't be pissed off with him any longer.

Ed guessed Chace had been angsting over their conversation like a girl. He was expecting an apology, or maybe a denial, so he was kind of surprised when he got neither.

"So, want to come over tonight? Beer, maybe pizza?"

Ed thought about it. His flight was at noon tomorrow, that might be a problem. On the other hand, he had next to no packing to do, and no food in the apartment. And he was going to be on a different continent from Chace for the next few weeks. Maybe longer; nothing was certain in this business.

"Why not, mate?" he said in the end. "Why the fuck not."

It took quite a lot to impress Ed, as he told Chace at least seventeen times before he managed to tell him what was impressing him so much.

"Man, you just—" Ed shook his head sadly. His beer bottle sculpture was a work of art, man. Possibly the finest he'd ever achieved on a single night's drinking, if not the largest. He waved a hand at it helplessly, but Chace was fidgeting with his bracelet again, apparently hypnotized by the shiny little blue beads.

Fucking heathen. He collapsed back down on the couch and watched Chace twist his beads round and round and round on their leather strap.

"Christ, you're thinking again." How fucking depressing.

"I haven't decided if I'm going away yet," Chace said, and let the beads fall down around his wrist again. "For New Year," he added, as if Ed might have forgotten about his girly identity crisis like the shit friend he was.

Because, oh. Ed _was_ being a shit friend, not imparting his great wisdom to lovely, lovely Chace. He had to make that right, before it was too late.

"Fuck him," he said, concise if not eloquent in his wisdom, and grabbed another beer.

"Ed, he's my _friend_." Chace's mouth was even pretty when it was cross and sulky, and that just wasn't fair. Ed petted it to make it feel better. Nothing creepy, just a finger. What was a bit of mouth petting between friends?

"Not 'fuck off', fuck him. _Fuck_ him, fuck him." This obviously made perfect sense, Chace was just being slow. "Then you'll know if you like it."

"Just like that."

Okay, fine. If Chace was going to be a drama queen about this, Ed could play along.

"You go, and if he jumps you then you get the traditional choices - 'yes' or 'no'." Ed hiccupped loudly. Fucking beer. "I recommend 'yes' because that way you get sex, but seriously it's up to you if you'd rather cry into whatever shit they drink in Miami instead of having fun."

"What if I don't want to, or I don't like it? I'll be stuck out there for the rest of the holidays."

There was something wrong with this, Ed thought. Or wait, no: there was something making perfect sense. He stood and spread his arms wide, welcoming in the truth, the light, the fucking _inspiration_.

"Mate, I've got it!" Chace was looking worried, but Ed leaned down and carefully patted his hair. It was so sweet, but he had the answer. "You're not having an identity crisis. Or a sexuality… whatever."

Chace's brow wrinkled. "I'm not?"

"No!" Ed put a consoling hand on Chace's shoulder and braced him for the bad news. "You're turning into a fucking _woman_!"

He was kind of expecting a punch in the face, and he knew he deserved one, but if anything being pulled down to the couch so Chace's fingers could attack his ribs was worse. Fucker hit all of Ed's ticklish spots – either he was psychic or just frighteningly lucky – Ed didn't stand a chance.

"I hate you," Chace said when Ed went still underneath him, gasping for breath.

"I know you do." Ed needed him to move because Jesus, his elbow was digging into his side hard and it was difficult enough to breathe as it was.

Pushing him didn't get him anywhere though; he was braced too efficiently to stop Ed from escaping.

Ed thought he might be turning into some sort of genius, because the solution was so obvious, and for real this time. He let the leg that was defending his ribs from Chace drop down onto the couch again and Chace fell with it. That was more like it: Chace's eyes were wide under that silly, soft hair, and his lips were shiny, so Ed wrapped an arm around Chace's neck and pulled him down into a wet, dirty kiss.

For a moment Ed was doing all the work, but credit where it was due, once Chace was in he really fucking committed. He couldn't have been drinking his fair share of the beers, that was for sure, because Ed was still getting used to the taste of Chace's tongue in his mouth while Chace's hands were way ahead of the game, one sliding under Ed's loose t-shirt and the other tugging impatiently at his zipper.

"Are you sure you haven't done this before?" Because holy fuckin' Christ, the hand that wrapped around his dick was almost painfully good, and if Chace wasn't careful he'd be going off like a rocket any second now.

"Don't come," Chace gasped, his fingers bumping obscenely over every vein and ridge, and Ed thought he knew his dick well but when Chace licked his palm and went for it again he swore he could hear it making plans to jump ship and set up home with Chace.

"Not—" Jesus, Chace's jeans were down around his thighs and the warm, heavy length of his dick was slicking Ed's fingers in a way that made him want to taste it. "Not going to be an option soon," he panted. It didn't matter though, because what he wanted was the dick in his hand to push into him, fill him up with its heat and solidity, give him the fucking of a lifetime.

"You— Ed, I'm serious. You can't!" Chace pulled away, but Ed's hands went with him. Chace's hipbones were a thing of beauty and they fitted just right into Ed's grip, it was amazing. Almost as amazing as his dick, which was _right there_ and still making Ed's mouth water, but off limits while Chace rummaged around in his coffee table drawers.

"Yeah, I really can." If Chace was going to start being difficult now he could fuck off—except no, Ed wasn't giving this chance up for anything. He twisted his hips up off the couch and rubbed himself firmly against Chace's thigh.

"Wait, wait." Chace dropped a condom packet and a small bottle down on Ed's chest, and Ed had his first real inkling of where this was heading. And sure enough: "I want you to fuck me."

The thing was, Ed really, really liked to be fucked. Loved it all, from the gasping burn of penetration to the full-to-bursting sensation of being filled by another guy's dick, to the way it always made him feel pinned, split open, exposed. It was hands down the root of all his filthiest, most depraved fantasies. It was his entire top ten of wanking material, with the occasional guest appearance of some bra-less girl passed on the street just to remind himself he was still bi.

But this was Chace. _Chace Crawford_ , kneeling there half-naked with his hair rumpled from Ed's fingers. Chace Crawford, begging Ed to fuck him. He was moving before he knew it.

"Don't worry, mate," he murmured, easing Chace down so he could lean on the arm of the couch. "I'll take care of it, trust your Uncle Ed."

"That's so wrong, man." But Chace was laughing, and pushing back against Ed's fingers as soon as the condom was on and the lube open.

"Impatient little fucker," Ed grumbled, and started straight in with two fingers to teach him a lesson, twisting them deep and hard, because he was working on a rapidly diminishing time limit here, which was all the fault of Chace's desperate, breathy voice moaning encouragement.

"Ed," Chace whined, and that was it. If he wanted Ed's cock so badly, he could have it .

"Breathe," Ed whispered into his ear, and pushed the slick head of his cock into Chace, thumb pressing and guiding, and god, he'd almost forgotten what it was like from this side. The way the tip just folded in; the way it felt like you were pushing through flesh to start with, until – he groaned and shifted – it gave way once, twice and _fuck, fuck, fuck_ he was in and moving, and Chace was groaning, gasping out words and Ed could only make out every other one but he wasn't saying stop, and that was all that mattered right now because Ed couldn't stop, wouldn't stop, and Jesus Christ he was going to come _right fucking now_ and he had no idea how he had the presence of mind to grab Chace's cock right now but somehow he managed it and he was panting, coming hard and fast inside of Chace while Chace shouted out and covered the couch, Ed's hand and possibly the fucking _walls_ , who cared, a moment later.

Ed had no idea how they'd made it to the bed, but when he woke a few hours later he was staring up at a tastefully-decorated ceiling, sunlight was pouring into the room in a way it did all too rarely in a New York winter, and Chace was snoring into a pillow next to him.

It was gone ten, less than two hours to make his flight to London. Christ, he was going to have to go as he was, or he'd never make it. He just hoped to hell he'd back to pick up his guitar, but if not, Chace definitely owed him one and would probably pack it up for him. Or someone from the set, maybe, if Chace never wanted to speak to him again.

"Hey, fucker," he murmured softly, and nipped at Chace's ear. Hmm. It was kind of salty. Christ, what had they been _doing_?

Chace growled something indistinct and turned over, hair mussed and his lip curled up where it had been crushed against the pillow. "Whassat—Ed?"

"Yeah." Ed couldn't resist a kiss, just a small one, and if Chace didn't exactly return it enthusiastically at least his lips twitched as if they were making the effort. "Listen, I gotta go, baby. I'll call you, okay?"

"'Kay," mumbled Chace. He turned over again and burrowed back into the pillow, the long lean line of his back soft and golden in the sunlight slanting across the bed.

Ed kept that image in his mind all the way home.  



End file.
